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  “Thank you for looking,” she said between kisses. “Thank you for even thinking to look. I never thought I’d get out of there and a life of servitude was just not my calling.”

  Sam grinned against her mouth, tightening his arms around her, then drawing her across his lap.

  “What about me? I helped.” Sebastian smiled.

  Viva drew back, staring at Sam for a moment, running her thumb across his lower lip before she looked at Sebastian. She slid off Sam’s lap and kissed Sebastian’s cheek.

  Behind her, Sam pulled the pouch from the back of her slacks and she flinched around. “So what’s in this?”

  “Heck if I know, but he made an appointment to discuss that. It was all I heard.”

  Sebastian frowned, and Viva opened the sack. Her eyes went wide and she lifted her gaze to Sam’s. “I think I made a big mistake.”

  “With you, that’s the norm.”

  Viva tipped the sack and spilled uncut diamonds into her palm. Sam looked at Sebastian, who merely arched a brow.

  “The man who bought you, who was he?” Sebastian asked.

  “I never saw him before I woke up tied to the bed.”

  “Tied? The son of a bitch tied you!” Max said, disgusted.

  “I recognized him,” Sam said quietly.

  Max peered in the rearview. Sebastian waited. Viva looked at him, pouring the diamonds back in the sack.

  “It was Ryzikov.” Sam unfolded the damp fabric, showing the laptop.

  “Who?” Viva said, then noticed the pasty look on Sebastian’s face.

  “He’s Chechen, and handles finances and operations.”

  “For what?”

  “The Riyadus-Salikhin Battalion.”

  Viva’s brows knit and she looked between the two men. She was afraid to ask. “And that’s who, exactly?”

  Sam let out a long breath. “Chechen Islambouli Brigades.” He rubbed his mouth. “Al Qaeda.”

  CIA Station

  Bangkok

  Adam Kincade cursed. “You didn’t think that merely approaching them wouldn’t get you a better response?”

  “They were running from Thai police, by car.”

  “I’d run from the Thai police!” He pushed his fingers through his short hair and swore it went gray. “You people need to go back to the Farm. How long have you been in this country? Don’t answer that.”

  He drew a breath, paced, and watched the screens that tapped into the airports, the main hubs of business districts, hotel cameras. Each section, a four-person team watched a large area of the city around where they suspected the worst of humanity was in Thailand.

  “Find them,” he said into the headset. “They were in Ryzikov’s hotel, they saw something, they know something about why he’s here, and we need to know it because, boys and girls”—he looked at the room full of surveillance analysts—“we need an advantage. And we need it now.”

  A young man approached, a baggie in his hand. “Only one shell, a Dragunov, SVD.” Adam only glanced at the bag. Beyond the secured room, workers were replacing the shattered glass. Looters had taken most of the equipment, and though it was for looks, it was expensive. He was busting the budget in manpower already.

  Adam nodded, refraining from waving the man off. The officer didn’t know about the weapon schematics, didn’t know the danger it posed. He wanted to tell them, to give them the lead, and he wished the hell someone in Langley would get with the program. Working blind would only leave them stumbling in the dark.

  And the terrorists had the light.

  The jungle canopy hid the dirt road, torchlight brightening only where he stood as Kashir watched the line of Land Rovers be swallowed by the darkness.

  He’d been anointed, given control by the Chow leaders. And that dropped him in deep trouble. He didn’t want the job, yet wisely refrained from saying so. A gang leader, territory to work and protect. None of the Chow seemed concerned that Najho was killed by a dart. It was a concern to him. Kashir had seen it too much. Najho had said too much.

  Certainly the treatment was better, less work, more catering to him, yet what he heard from the Chow was enough to make his skin crawl.

  He had to contact Dragon One. The danger waiting for Wyatt wasn’t a concern. The Texan had already proven himself resourceful and skilled. Kashir’s conscience nagged him enough to actually do his real job for Interpol, and warn the man that Rohki was just a cog in a big wheel. His final adversary was more powerful—without a just cause or personal stake—and that made him deadly.

  Viva heard Al Qaeda and tossed the sack at Sam. “Count me out.”

  “I don’t blame you, but you’re stuck with us now.”

  “What do you mean? I’m heading out of here on the next flight…oh hell, my passport.”

  Sam dug in a bag and handed the money belt to her.

  “See, now I’m all set, some clothes and I can leave, be out of your hair.” Sam shook his head. “No, don’t do that,” she warned.

  “Viva, you killed the man.”

  Her features went slack, the color draining, and in a tiny voice she said, “It was self-defense.”

  “Yes, it was.” He could still see the man’s fingerprints on her throat. “But he’s got friends in low places. They’ll come after you.”

  “It’s true, chéri,” Sebastian said. “Your best chances are with us.”

  “Okay, okay, just exactly who are you people? What are you doing mixed up in this?”

  “I’ll explain later, but we’re the good guys.”

  “I think you’ve proven that a few times.” She smiled at Sam, then beyond him in the rear of the van, she saw movement. “That’s Dr. Wan Gai’s assistant. What’s he doing here? And tied up and bleeding.”

  Sam tossed a thumb in Choan’s direction. “He’s the one who actually sold you.”

  She was about to argue the point, then realized Choan wouldn’t be in here if he didn’t have anything to do with this. She looked from Sam to Choan, then suddenly lurched across the gear bags and punched Choan over and over.

  Sam let her have at it for a minute, then pulled her back. “Get that out of your system?”

  “Not really.” She blew on her knuckles. “He’s got the bracelet, so what’s the big, hairy deal?”

  Sam dug in a bag and handed her the gold cuff. She turned it in her hands and then met his gaze. “I missed out on a lot, didn’t I?”

  “You said it was priceless.”

  “It is, to find something like this in those caves is phenomenal. I’m betting it’s older than even Dr. Nagada thought, but what was I going to do with that information? Go to the king? I’d never get an audience.”

  “What would the curator be required to do with it?” Sebastian asked.

  She shrugged. “Catalogue and display it. I don’t know the Thai protocol for artifacts. Probably inform the king, maybe turn it over to him. He’s Thai royalty, so he’s got a lot of leeway.”

  “Apparently whatever it represents is detrimental, or Wan Gai wouldn’t have risked this coming back on the king,” Sebastian said.

  “I intend to find out.” She put the cuff on.

  “Home sweet home, guys,” Max said, pulling to a stop.

  Viva looked out the front window, but all she saw was more jungle. Sam slid the door open, hopped out, then reached for her. Beyond him was a one-story house, very Thai with a sloping, pagoda-style tile roof and beautiful gardens.

  “Boy, you guys know how to live,” she said, then turned back to the van. “What’re you going to do with big and ugly?” She inclined her head to the back and Choan.

  “What is your preference?” Sebastian said devilishly.

  Viva mentally debated that for a second or two, but didn’t want anyone’s life on her conscience. One was plenty. “I’ll leave that up to you, but selling him into slavery would be an option I’d consider.” Sebastian grinned as she turned away, and with Sam, walked toward the house.

  The front door opened, and Sam reache
d for his gun, his footsteps faltering for a second till he recognized Logan. “About time, pal, we could use your help.” Sam held out the laptop.

  Logan took it, but his attention was on the woman, his gaze sliding admiringly over her. “What did you do, Wyatt? Steal from Ali Baba’s harem?”

  “Yes, and the forty thieves will be right along,” Viva said, sweeping past him into the house.

  “Bathroom is to the right,” Sam called out. She waved overhead, and Sam and Logan followed inside.

  “Prisoner or plaything?” Logan asked.

  Sam scoffed. “Neither.” He didn’t expect her good mood to last. “She killed a man tonight.” And when it sunk in, nothing would console her.

  “Her?” Logan glimpsed the beautiful redhead before she disappeared down the hall.

  “She’s tougher than she looks. And a fighter.”

  “So who’d she ghost?”

  “Andrei Ryzikov.”

  Logan whistled softly. “What’s he doing here? Last I heard he was hiding somewhere in northern Chechnya with Russian Foreign intelligence hot on his ass.”

  “Diamonds brought him out, and I’m hoping the answers in there.”

  Sam stood outside the room, and knocked softly. She didn’t answer and he figured she was sleeping. Yet when he opened the door, she was curled in a chair, staring out the bank of windows. The sun was just coming up. “Viva?” Her back to him, she brushed at her cheeks and the muscles around his heart tightened.

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  He gripped the towel hooked around his neck and debated leaving her alone. “Are you?”

  “Well, killing a man today was a first. I’m sure I’ll get over it.”

  He crossed to her and felt a jumble of emotions. Anger that she’d suffered, that she was forced to take a life, yet mostly he felt sympathy. He understood what she was feeling. The first time he had to kill a man, he’d puked. His other feelings, his attraction to her, which was nothing short of startling, had no place right now and he knelt before her.

  Her arms wrapped around her bent legs, she rested her chin on her knees. She looked so desolate, not like the woman who fought off bandits in the jungle.

  “You won’t get over it, just used to the idea.”

  She pressed her forehead to her knees briefly. “I didn’t have a choice, I know that, but when I grabbed the knife all I thought was—me or him. And I really didn’t want to die.”

  “Ryzikov has a reputation for killing his women, baby. I would have killed him. Gladly.”

  Her head jerked up, eyes flaring.

  “He had no right to touch you. The man who sold you to him is dead, the people who were in that room with you are free.”

  She let out a long sigh. “Oh, thank God.” Her voice rasped, remnants of the strangling. “I was thinking I was a really crummy member of the human race to be sitting here, feeling sorry for myself when they were all suffering.” She bent her head again, yet said nothing.

  He could tell she was crying. “Talk to me, Red.” He stroked her hair.

  “I’m scared.”

  His heart just plain ached for her. “You’re safe now.”

  “No, of myself, of things I’ve done that will leave a mark and change everything.” She tipped her head and met his gaze. A voice in her head said tell him about the rifle, the headaches, the dock, but it wouldn’t come. More fear, she thought. “I’ve spent my adult life going from job to job, never doing anything more than six months, a year maybe. I changed jobs for men, for boredom, for a challenge. Well, that’s what I kept telling myself, but the truth is, I just quit.” She let out a breath as if letting go would change her world. “I don’t want to quit anymore. And as ridiculous as it sounds, this past week has been the most exciting of my life.” His brows rose. “Well, most of it. But at least I felt alive.”

  “The rush is temporary, trust me.”

  “I do.”

  He smiled, blushing a little, and she almost expected an “aw shucks, ma’am,” then knew it wouldn’t come. Sam didn’t let anything so trivial hinder him. He jumped in with both barrels blazing or that bullwhip cracking, danger be damned. At least she knew to be scared, she thought, her gaze sliding over his bare chest, his hair still damp from a shower. The towel looped around his neck, he gripped the ends. Did it get any sexier?

  “You’re one terrific guy, ya know.”

  He smiled gently.

  “I’ve seen courage before, but you take the cake.” She let her feet fall to the floor.

  “Give yourself some credit.”

  “For trouble, sure. But nothing like what I’ve seen.” She pushed his hair back off his forehead. He had hero written all over him, she thought. “Do you fear anything?”

  Sam stared into her soft green eyes, and saw the truth. “Only you.”

  “Why?”

  “You do things to me.”

  Her lips curved. “Screw up your mission, force you to come rescue me, twice?”

  “Who’s counting.” He leaned in.

  Viva felt swallowed up by the look in his dark eyes, intense, for sure, but something else she’d never seen in a man.

  “You make me want to crawl inside your skin and find out what makes you tick.”

  Tears blurred her vision and she inhaled sharply, a perilous feeling tumbling through her. “No one’s ever tried,” she whispered, touching the side of his face.

  “Lucky me.”

  She smiled softly, a tear falling.

  “Don’t cry, it tears me up to see it.”

  “So now it’s all about you, huh?”

  He chuckled. He never knew what to expect from her. She was the most unpredictable woman he’d ever known, and she fascinated the hell out of him.

  She grasped the ends of the towel, pulling him near, and his hands on either side of her slid along her thighs, her hips.

  “This is dangerous,” he said, his face nearing hers.

  “Define danger.” Her mouth lingered over his and she slipped off the chair, straddled his lap.

  God. He could feel the heat of her through his jeans. “You, in any form, me hot as hell to have you.”

  “And time alone with no one shooting at us,” she finished. “And let’s not forget I’m naked under this robe.” Her mouth trailed his throat, and she caught his earlobe and nibbled.

  Sam felt himself go cross-eyed with desire. “Oh, Jesus. You’re making me come apart again, Red.” He kissed her hot and quick.

  “Is that all?”

  He gripped her hips, ground her to him, and proved she had him in her grasp.

  “You’ve had a rough couple of days, and—”

  Her gaze flashed to his and he saw it, the memory, the moment when Ryzikov violated her, when she knew she’d die. “I know my own mind, Sam, and I think—yours.”

  But she didn’t.

  She had no idea how close she came to not dying today.

  Ryzikov had plans for her, a personal brand Sam had seen once before. The bastard would take her to the edge of her life, then jerk her back; a reprieve that lasted only till the son of a bitch wanted to witness his control again. The marks on her neck were only the first layer.

  Seeing them made him relive his fear, admit he’d never been so scared in his life than when he couldn’t find her, couldn’t protect her. It ate him alive. She had no training, no defenses, nothing to help herself, and then, she proved him wrong—again.

  “Sam?” She frowned, wondering what he was thinking on so hard. “This zoning-out thing is not a good sign and my ego is terribly fragile. I might not recover.”

  He smiled slow and broad, then cupped her jaw in his broad palms and kissed her. Really kissed her. Not like he hadn’t done a damn fine job before but this time, he was full of patience when she wanted to plow ahead. Each roll of his mouth made her toes curl, her skin tighten. Her soul opened.

  “I can’t ignore you, baby,” he said against her lips. “It’s physically impossible.”

  Her
body reacted with quick shivers, her hands spread wide over his chest. “Mmm, command of the body. It’s a good start.”

  He met her gaze, something battling behind his dark eyes. “You and me, we’re more than that.” His fingers flexed on her jaw.

  Viva went still inside, and swore her heartbeat just plain stopped. Was he for real? No one had ever spoken to her like this. She covered his hands, pulling them from her face and gripping. “Seriously?”

  “I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”

  “Me, either.” Her gaze lingered over him, her hand spread over his bare chest, the contours of muscle defined and rippling. It made her hot to see all of that man, and know he was hers for tonight. She lifted her gaze to his as she tugged at the robe’s sash. She’d never been shy, never let what she wanted escape.

  Yet he hesitated. “Me or erasing his memory?”

  She smiled with feline grace and spread the robe, exposing her breasts and loving his jaw-dropping look. “Oh, if you don’t know that by now, we really aren’t communicating well enough.” Her hand went behind his neck, and she drew him close. “Let me fix that.”

  Her tongue snaked out and slicked his lips and he groaned as he sank into her. The terrorist’s touch evaporated with each press of his mouth on hers, in the way he touched her, as if he’d never get the chance again. It was a rare sensation for her, and the bounty of it flowed into an empty place in her, in the scattered loneliness she’d lived for years. And she ached for more, greedy woman. There was no question in her mind when she slid the robe off her shoulders, and let it pool at her hips.

  He swallowed, his gaze riding over her body. “Oh, man, you’re—”

  “Ready and willing?”

  “Beautiful.”

  Her heart just got lighter, she thought, sliding her arms around his neck and sinking her fingers into his hair. Her breasts grazed his chest, and in his ear she whispered hotly, “Wanna rock and roll with me?”

  “Jesus.” Sam slammed his eyes shut.

  Then she kissed him.

  Pure heat and wild hunger. And more. Sam felt the power of it speed down his body and fight for escape. Instead it built, a need like sucking in a lungful of air that wouldn’t come, and he struggled. It almost scared him, opened up feelings he’d buried for the missions—fighting it was impossible. Viva made him feel. Just by her very existence. She was her own adventure, her own ruler, and the thrills in a high-speed chase in a tight cockpit didn’t compare to the ecstasy of Viva—naked—pressed against him, her mouth moving savagely over his.